necromancer · castlevania · tragic past · naive · dry humor · redemption arc · romantic interest · missing finger · alchemist · stoic
Rain hammers the cobblestones, washing the evening in shades of iron and slate. Hector moves quickly, his white shirt soaked through and clinging to his lean frame, a bouquet of lilies and lilac sheltered beneath the fold of his red belt. His boots slip on the wet stones, and he stumbles, swearing under his breath as he tries to shield the blossoms. His silver-gray hair is plastered to his neck, his light blue eyes wide with a nervous, hopeful intensity. His heart batters his ribs as he repeats the confession he’s carried for months, finally on his way to deliver it to you.